Set in the fictional central/eastern European country of Zubrowka, Wes Anderson’s new film covers a shocking amount of territory in its relatively short 99-minute running time. The main story follows a stolen painting, a prison escape, and dodging a bloodthirsty hitman. Nestled within the cracks is the display of wealth and poverty in 20th century Europe’s inter-war years and hints at the rising fascist and national socialist political movements. These are weighty subjects for the notoriously silly and winsome Wes Anderson. He approaches these issues with his famous deadpan dialogue and cast of familiars instructed in their serious and earnest delivery. The first wrinkle we encounter on the Anderson rollercoaster is a flashback setup; however, Anderson takes us three flashbacks deep. We begin in what must be present day of a girl reading “The Grand Budapest Hotel” next to a memorial headstone of The Author. Flashback to 1985, The Author (Tom Wilkinson, 2013's The Lone Ranger) videotapes an interview of how “The Grand Budapest Hotel” story landed in his lap. Flashback to 1968, now Jude Law (2013’s Side Effects) is The Author staying at the eponymous hotel and listens intently to the story told by Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham, 2013’s Inside Llewyn Davis), the owner of the vast and decaying Communist-era expanse. Finally, we jump back to 1932, where the majority of the film occurs with Grand Budapest concierge, Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes, 2013’s The Invisible Woman), running a fine-tuned and high-strung resort for Europe’s elite clientele. Latching on to his side, the new Lobby Boy, Zero Moustafa as a young man (Tony Revolori), believes in the mission of discreet and anticipatory hotel staff. Gustave the concierge maintains a side business alongside his official duties, you will usually find him at night sharing the bed of one of the hotel’s elderly ladies dousing them with flatteries and attention, the kind they do not receive from neglectful families. He is frequently financially rewarded for his efforts. When his latest 84-year-old paramour, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton, 2012’s Moonrise Kingdom), turns up murdered, Gustave inherits a priceless painting which Madame’s scheming, oily son Dmitri (Adrian Brody, 2011’s Midnight in Paris), is loathe to part with, especially to a servant. Dmitri accuses Gustave of murder which gives us the film’s highlight inside a forbidding prison castle, a delightful and unexpected escape sequence, and life on the lam trying to piece together the mystery of Madame D’s lost and final will. Recognizable supporting actors from throughout Wes Anderson’s previous films drop in and out including Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman, Edward Norton and a handful of others. The very smallest roles here are most likely staffed by a well-known face. The Grand Budapest Hotel belongs to Ralph Fiennes though. His exuberant and over-the-top bravado concealing anxious vanity is another in a long line of leading Anderson men – think Royal Tenenbaum or even Mr. Fox from Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). Using different aspect ratios in each respective flashback, each era has a distinct color palette to follow. The Grand Budapest Hotel in 1932 is awash in vibrant red and orange while 1968 is more plastic, neon, and stale. 1932 is presented in a boxy square reminiscent of the era while 1968 is ultra-widescreen which performs double duty emphasizing the emptiness and loneliness of what once must have been a spectacular and crowded hotel lobby. The Grand Budapest Hotel does not rank with Anderson’s best, which are Rushmore (1998), The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), and Moonrise Kingdom (2012). It will fall somewhere alongside The Darjeeling Limited (2007) and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004). Regardless of where folks rank it in the Anderson pantheon, it is a pleasure to once again dive headfirst into another Anderson world. It is truly a pleasure to enjoy the work of such a talented and gifted director.